Nate, Georgina, Sparks Fly
by Chrissy Renee Pinto
Summary: Georgina wants to keep her baby and she needs Nate's help to thwart her parents.Will they succeed or wont they? Please review. I need feedback otherwise the story is dead!


**Love Georgina sparks! If you love her too you will review. They totally stole the pregnancy idea from me! Anyway, review with thoughts on this story. Thank you! **

Throat constricts to unimaginable density, hot beads of sweat sprout on her skin. 'No, This isn't happening!' The little plastic stick moves in and out of focus. Blinking her eyes, she considers banging her head on the porcelain bowl for some semblance of clarity. There are not many things that can shock and terrify Georgina Sparks. Mainly because she has tried and done almost everything, with the panache of an adrenalin junkie. Something weird and unbelievable, she is the first one to dive right into it. Then she would turn around and do it again just for the open-mouthed looks of horror. But this-this was a situation she is ill prepared to handle. It is too mind-blowing. No matter how hard she stares, it refuses to change. 'Maybe it is a mistake!' The cavern of her mouth is aridly bitter, usually there is perpetual sarcasm hanging on her tongue. Eyes flitter to the brightly coloured box, it is a good thing she hadn't taken the one with the happy mother. At the moment, she couldn't imagine anything more revolting.

Her heart slams into her chest with the force of a freight train, the air in her lungs reduced to ash as her stomach clenches violently. After the sensations become too overpowering, she tries dry heaving to rid herself of the sickness. The drinking, smoking and drugging which incidentally is bad for the…No she couldn't wrap her lips around the word or say it aloud. It made her stomach clench painfully. Weakly, she licks her lips.

There has to be a way to deal with the whole mess. Salty tears gather like alien fluid around the corners of the eyes. Georgina imagines they are ominous with blackness like the demons on Supernatural or maybe because of the amount of mascara just to make her eyes bigger. 'What the hell was going to happen to her body?' Fingers reach to rake across cherry curls, twisting roughly. Slowly beginning the ruin of her perfect hair style.

Spinning on her heel, she thrusts her head into her bowl of water. The cool body enveloping her face. Stayed like that, suspended in that colourless world, oddly comforting unlike the skin stretched taut on her body. Then, her lungs scream for air and with reluctance, she emerges. Through the fall of water, she perceives herself, looking feverish while anxiety and fear contrast sharply in her elfish eyes that protrude from skin resembling wet sandpaper. She is a sad mermaid. Head tilts backwards, a raucous laugh burning her throat on the way out, the sound echoes in the suffocating room that is tainted with the barest wisp of smoke. Usually she had to be drunk or high to appreciate that joke, it wasn't very funny sober.

'I have to fix this!' Fortifying that single refrain with large chains that also lock her muscles into determined action. '_Unless I want to take a kid to my old bar and say, "Hey Junior, I got the whole gang back together-Lets see if we can pick you a Daddy!_"'

Darkness had rolled over the campus silently while the world is crashing over her and burying her with morose, twisted thoughts of a bleak future. She slides into her car; her jaw clenched so tight, her teeth gently gnash against each other, agitation filtering through face over the struggle to maintain an aloof façade. '_They are just waiting for an excuse!_" It may seem like an excess Her eyes swept edgily from one end of the parking lot to the other. A strange numbness spread to her fingers, in contrast to the shivers that descend her body.

The significance of her action throbs steadily in the corner of her mind, begging to flood her with reprimand as she drives to her destination. The car swerves, nearly missing the curb, with a screech of tires it stops in front of the building.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, eyes are silvered with resolve and overshadowed with an oddity that she attempts to decipher but quickly shuts down. The piece of paper with the hastily scrawl is somewhere on the floor of her car. Lacking the usually aplomb that directed her legs, that were rigid stilts that would cooperate only with insistence. "Let's just get this over with!" Hissing into the still air with a surreal detached element, the cold biting her sensitive skin. "It would erase what had happened but could I erase it from my memory. What if there is a scar!" Footfalls quickened their pace, making a beeline for the entrance. The stairs were raised like a stairway to heaven, the grey lining of the double door shine dully under the florescent light in the dark street, flickering intermittently. A calling card for sinners. Georgina is at the bottom, one hand clutching the cold metal, cold seeping into her bodies, stronger than the twilight chill.

A second passes morbidly; she is stuck in that one pose, twisting her clutched hand. The friction scuffing her baby-soft hands, slightly slick with moisturizer. Her thoughts whirl around her in an endless tornado of right or wrong, for better or worse, selfishness or repentance. The breath enters her tightening chest in tiny snatches of air but another kind of fog has descended over her eyes. One that is slowly leaching the surety and confidence from her skin, laying her naked and exposed to the vileness of her nature. Georgina is no stranger to questionable activities, some may say she is predisposed to it but this, it could alter her state of mind forever. "If you do this-you will be no better than your parents. Vapid, self-centred phoneys till the rotting remains of their heart.' The voice screeches in her head, a cacophony of rebuke and reproach. Like icy nails down her back, self-abuse heaped on her already trembling frame that had more than one weight to carry. Teeth snag the bottom of her lip and chew vigorously, an outlet for her agony. Plundering freely from her reserves of devil-may-care character that is firmly lodged where her heart ought to be, steeling herself against the onslaught, she launches toward the door. Desperation ringing clear in her laboured breathing.

Georgina jumps backwards just in time as the door swings open to nearly hit her in her face. A sallow face emerges, pale with the dry kiss of tears, lips cracked and quivering. She lurches away from Georgina as if expecting her to harangue, eyes watery with self-recrimination then it is gone as if a door is closed and she walks on her way. Not sparing a backward glance. Georgina who was always ruled by impetus now finds herself in a crossroads.

She doesn't walk, she shuffles because her mind has yet to be fully made up and she is still in a state of indecisiveness. Everything is whirling around her, in a blur whose sole intention was to confuse her with shapes and sounds that didn't exist and torment her with the wrong she is thinking inflicting on another human being.

Suffice to say that Georgina had done a lot worse so the abortion wasn't much of a deal; she had battered her body with drugs, alcohol and men. It was an unhealthy environment to raise a baby. More like a little wiggly thing that swam like a fish and looked a little like one. How was it doing inside? Did it breathe the ashy nicotine that granulates in her bloodstream and taste the harsh alcohol. Did it hear her heartbeats and time it, understanding what she is thinking. There are so many questions that she didn't have any answers for, didn't know who to turn to…

The wind picks up, cold nips her skin raising goosebumps and descending her spine in a frigid wave. This is her baby, growing inside her and she wants to kill it. She arrives at the ledge, a barrier on the edge of a cliff. She sits on it, ignoring the small voice that begs her to compromise.

Swinging her feet, she tries to catch the rhythm of the roaring waters beneath her, reminding her forlornly of her Malibu beach house with waters glimmering like a thousand aquamarines. She had formed the opinion at the tender age of nine that whatever troubled the waters would eventually dissolve and the waves would be reduced to a soothing, calm lull. A light breeze would turn the waves and sooth the burning in her eyes and on her skin. It made her feel so comforted when she looked out into the waters, swaying and sparkling at her under the rays of the sun. She would be safe out there.

Swept away into caressing arms somewhere far away from her parents, where powerful hugs and terms of endearment are given freely. A sob chokes in her throat as she stared into the blanket of darkness below her feet, the moon having chosen that moment to shield itself behind the clouds. The churning, consuming vortex below her would end her baby's life and hers. It was for the best. If she proceeded with the birth, it had no chance of being born without the birth defects usually associated with children of drug-addicts and alcoholics. On the other hand, if she decided to raise the baby, then it would have inherited something much worse-her parents. And Georgina wished numerous ills on the people she hated; syphilis, social destruction, mental torment, the twelve plagues of Egypt-at least two of them twice for certain people in mind but never her parents-the lord and ladyship of the depraved torture chamber of Hades. Aside from that there was the alternative of jumping ship to greener pastures wherever they may lead, but then there was the money attraction and the roof over her head and her people skills which lets face it wouldn't even get her the kindness of a pimp. Lips compressed into a thin uncompromising line. She had to do this. The regret and pain she would be feeling after taking a life would be hard to bear with. Georgina is inured and therefore could live her guilt-free lifestyle. Nevertheless, taking a life was-would be difficult-especially one that was growing in her womb. Womb-a heavenly abode for life where little defenceless creatures suckled, safe in their cocoon of innocence that all babies are gifted with-gentle, nurturing. The only sense of purpose being their entry into this world and then the loving arms of their mother. A heavy ball of lead is lodged in her throat, twisted like barbed wire.

She drew in a long, deep breath which she felt enter the empty pit of her churning stomach. She had to do this though for the first time genuine pain clawed at her insides. The baby is without blemish, no taint unlike the mother who wore a cloak of sins in various colours maybe by default the lord would accept it in his pearly gates, not if it was a homosexual then it was over-they were going to hell. Her upper body leans forward; swallowing a breath like it weights like stones, the cords of her muscles tensing for her departure from this world.

Eyes fell shut. There is nothing she could do about it. This is the only way. Bracing against ledge, she is about to give herself a lift into the unknown. Every muscle taut in readiness. One. Two. Three. Barely had she moved an inch when strong arms encircle her and drag her away. A scream tore from her throat, flailing desperately and struck by panic. "Let me go!" "No, Georgina what are you doing?" The familiar hit her like a slap to the face, accompanied by a horrible sinking feeling.

Struggling halted, she surrenders herself to his embrace. "What are you doing?" Yelled in alarm, then the temerity of her laughter confused him, but it couldn't be helped, caused by the note of concern and worry in his voice. She fixes him with a narrow glare, "I was in the process of going sky diving Nate and you just ruined my fun!" Doing a wicked parody of a childish pout, with a voice full of broken glass.

"Georgina!" Face suddenly stricken with what Georgina loathes, like a kick to her stomach, pity. "Did something terrible happen to you?" Voice raw and empathetic. "Nothing the pretty whore of the upper east side needs to bother about!" Snapped savagely, venom dripping from her words. She had no one. She is alone. It is the truth and she is not looking to change it. Despite the darkness that blankets both of them, the isolation of their respective situations and the unspoken hatred and dislike below the surface of their countenance, she is genuinely touched by the warmth of the compassionate look he telegraphs. "My car is nearby. You can talk to me if you want!" The offer is obviously done out of sympathy, another word for spirit-crushing patronizing mercy for the weak. There is no good reason to accept his pathetic bid for comfort, but she concedes because muscles ache, head pounds against the gray matter of her skull and there is an unsettling need growing inside her human contact usually a prelude for sex.

Extending a hand, he assists in her rise. She shrugs him off afterward, refusing to play the docile victim, merely gesturing him to guide and she would follow. Walking alongside him, she fixed him with a sideways, disaffected look, wondering what his intentions were, a spy for Serena or an errand boy for Chuck, either way she has no reason to trust him.

The night slips past the world, uninhibited by sorrow or troubles unlike the select few whose burden weigh like the sky on Atlas, this like the Titan may well be their own doing and hence, they with black hearts did not deserve respite.

Georgina trudges up the stairs, imagining the soft pillows of her bed where she could lay down and sleep. Eyes heavy and pushing downwards. Exerting herself further, she stumbles into her college dorm, exhaustion solidifying in her bones, attracted to the force of gravity, threatening to spill her body onto the floor. Never had she been in a conversation that was so physical draining, including the talks with her parents! After long treacherous minutes which felt they were being stretched into painful hours, somehow, she manipulates her weary limbs into her room, barely managing to reach the bed before her body is strewn across it. Georgina relaxes, allowing sleep to roll over her. Nevertheless, in the midst of the gentle impending slumber, the intensity of the conversation reverberates in her head, the remnants pacifying her with the promise of a reprieve.

"Do you know who the father is or can you at least pick him from a line up?"

"No, he could be big foot for all I know!"

"Why can't you-take care of it?"

"Sure and while I am at it, Would you like me to drink lamb's blood and join a Nazi group!"

"Look, I am trying to be helpful!"

"Your attempt is pitiful at best. Do you even care that there is life inside me!"

"Yeah, I am still trying to wrap my head around that.."

"I can handle a baby, I can do the sane mother thing that doesn't involve eating her young but I just need someone to help me with my parents. They will steal it to their Frankenstein castle and turn it into a monster baby like in the movie Pet Sematary."

"That seems kind of harsh!"

"Do not underestimate my parents!"

**Silence***

"What if I pretended to be your husband?"

**If you love it, please review. **


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